


In Love, There is the Inevitable

by Thranduil_is_a_bitchking



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, just roll with me here kk, not really sorry actually, smuttier than I intended, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3200135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thranduil_is_a_bitchking/pseuds/Thranduil_is_a_bitchking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin, teetering on the brink of madness, finally falls, tearing down Bard's life as he does. Will greed become more important than honour? Will grief claw at him until he breaks?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Love, There is Light

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know where this came from, but my hypothermia-induced madness produced it :)
> 
> Drop a comment and let me know what you think! It is, after all, all of you that keep me writing :)
> 
> The first chapter ended up a lot smuttier than I'd intended it to be, but hey ho, if you don't like it, skip the smut 
> 
> As usual,  
> Enjoy! :)

It was chaos. The men of Laketown stood at the gates of Dale, looking back, watching as their homes, their lives and their families burned before them. What had the dwarves done? They had brought ruin and death upon them, the dragon fire raining down, torching man, woman and child alike. Smaug had no conscience, no pity, no mercy. Bard did everything he could to stop the dragon, and the last black arrow had hit it's mark. Smaug was dead. He turned his head and looked upon Erebor. He hoped he could reason with the dwarves, he had helped them, given them food and shelter...

A horn sounding in the distance drew him from his thoughts. Elves. Mirkwood elves to be exact. He'd never had the pleasure, if you could even call it that, of laying eyes on the Elvenking. He'd heard rumours though. People spoke of his attitude, his temper and his extravagance. The elves, along with their king, came laden with supplies. Supplies and weapons. Bard, preoccupied with attending to his children, missed the entrance of the Elvenking and his subsequent conversation with the wizard. It was only hours after the elves' arrival did Bard find out that their monarch was with them. A silvan elf in gold armour came to retrieve him from the makeshift tent he and his children were staying in.

"My king wishes to speak with you, you will come with me." The elf said, turning and waking away, not even bothering to see if the mortal was following. Bard hurried to catch up with the surefooted guard, almost tripping once or twice. He pulled his coat tighter around him as he walked, blowing on his hands in an attempt to warm them. It was to no avail. Snow was already falling from the night's sky. It wouldn't be long before the cold began to pick off the weakest of the survivors. The elf leading him stopped abruptly outside a tent and gestured with his head for him to go in. Shaking himself from his troubling thoughts and quelling the irrational nervousness that appeared almost out of nowhere, he stepped into the tent and froze. The king was bathing. He didn't quite know where to look, and he found his eyes continuously drifting over the elf's pale skin, tracking the paths of water droplets as they slid down towards the water. 

Unbeknownst to the human, Thranduil knew exactly what he was doing, and had asked the guard to retrieve Bard when he was in a compromising position. He hadn't quite intended it to be in this specific position however, he had wanted to be clothed, but never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he tilted his head back so that it was resting on the back of the tub, exposing his neck to Bard's hungry gaze. He could practically feel the human's eyes roam over his body an he added a stretch for good measure. A couple of moments passed in silence before Thranduil spoke.

"Are you going to come in dragonslayer, or will you stand there all night?" He asked, not turning his head.

"Ah- I...um..." Bard spluttered, blushing furiously. Thranduil found the whole thing amusing and slightly endearing. Bard moved forwards, shivering as the fact the the tent was as cold as outside hit him full force now that he wasn't as distracted. 

"Cold?" The elf asked, the innocent question underlined with something suggestive. Bard nodded, unable to tear his eyes off of King Thranduil's body, wanting to see how that silken hair would feel under his hands, how his pale skin would taste under his tongue. He stopped that train of thought immediately. He'd not even had those thoughts about his wife, yet he couldn't stop his feet from moving when the blond gestured for him to join him in the bath. He didn't think as he shrugged off his furs, nor when he stepped into the surprisingly warm water. There was enough room for two, but only just. It suddenly occurred to him, as if he'd missed it earlier, that he was bathing with the King of Mirwood. He was naked in a bath with possibly the most beautiful being to ever exist. Bard suddenly felt quite unimportant.

"Come now Bowman, I would not have asked for your company if I did not want it." Thranduil said, sensing where the human's thoughts were going. Thranduil thought that the mortal was quite beautiful in a ruggedly-handsome sort of way, with his brown hair and strong features. How he wanted to claim those lips for his own. Not yet though, a prize hard won tastes even sweeter. "I have heard you slew the dragon. Make no mistake, bowman, it is no mean feat. Your people love you. They will follow you to their deaths if you say it so." He said, watching as Bard paled before him. He rolled his eyes internally, shifting slightly, his leg brushing against Bard's knee, smirking at the shudder that rippled through the human.

"I-I don't want them to follow me! I didn't ask for this, I didn't wa-" Bard started, silencing himself immediately when the elf's pale finger was on his lips, the digit cool against his lips. With slightly wide and darkened eyes, he dared a look at the Elvenking. 

"Many who are given power do not want it, some let it corrupt them, others wield it wisely, justly. It is up to you how you use what has been given to you. I trust you to make the right choices, Bowman." Thranduil said, a small smile forming on his lips when he noticed the human's approval to his touch.

"How do you wield it?" Bard asked before he could stop himself, annoyed that he had to clear his throat halfway through to restore some sense of normality to his voice, sinking his hips further into the water in a vain attempt to hide his arousal. Thranduil leaned forwards, hand moving from Bard's lips to cup his cheek, face now just inches away from Bard's own. 

"Let's see shall we?" The Elvenking asked, low voice ripping through what was left of Bard's resolve. The man leaned up, closing the gap between them, one hand braced on the side of the tub and the other knotted in Thranduil's wet hair. The king tasted like honey and cream, with an underline of wine, and it was intoxicating. Unable to stop the moan at the feel of the elf pressed against him, the feel of his platinum hair flowing through his fingers even better than he'd imagined, his brain shut down when the elf ground down against him, the sensation a million times better than anything he'd ever experienced before. If pleasure was the root of all evil, then he was as black as night writhing beneath the being above him. The elf, however, was made of pure starlight, his mask of ice melting into the water that surrounded them. In the torchlight, his blonde hair shone like strands of molten gold, his eyes almost a pale blue. Bard could not help but drink in the sight, pulling Thranduil in for a kiss that was more teeth than anything, letting his head drop back when the elf moved on to his neck, biting and sucking until he reached his nipples, paying each one equal attention before moving lower. Thranduil's silver eyes met Bard's brown ones before his head dipped under water and Bard couldn't suppress the load moan that fell past his lips, hands knotting in the elf's hair, but not gripping too hard, half afraid that if he did he would drown the king. That wouldn't have been a problem however, because Thranduil resurfaced about half a minute later with a smirk, ignoring the human's whine. Bard pulled the elf closer by is hair, kissing him forcefully. This one was longer, yet still filled with lust, and Bard wrapped his legs around the Elvenking, desperate for release. Thranduil, still kissing Bard, had realised early on that the man had not done this before, and was reluctant to hurt him. With patience he surprised himself with, he somehow managed to pour the oil he usually used in his hair onto two of his fingers without Bard noticing and slowly slipped them inside of the mortal, telling him to relax. When Bard had begun to wantonly press down on his hand, he removed his fingers and guided the other's hips down towards his, slowly entering him, pausing to let the man adjust.

"Just hurry up and fuck me already." Bard ground out, making Thranduil raise his eyebrows at the crude remark. Seeming to realise what he had just said, and who he had just said it to, Bard attempted to apologise, but cut himself off with a moan when the king complied. The original pain had been masked by pleasure and when Thranduil hit something that made his vision swim and his hips buck, he couldn't ever remember feeling this much pleasure at any given time. It wasn't long before the only words in Bard's brain were 'yes' and 'Thranduil', and they seemed to be the only words he could speak until he couldn't even get them out past his moaning. He came hard and fast, screaming Thranduil's name embarrassingly loud. The elf came soon after, biting Bard's neck and sucking to muffle his moan. Bard slumped against Thranduil, not sure he'd be able to move let alone stand. "I like how you use your power." He said breathlessly. He felt Thranduil's chuckle more than he heard it, catching his whine before he voiced it when the king moved and stood, holding his hand out for Bard to take, which he did, standing on somewhat shaky legs. Clumsily catching the towel Thranduil threw him, he wrapped it around himself, feeling like the water on his body was freezing on his skin. "Are you not cold?"

"No, muin nín, elves do not feel the cold. (My dear)" Thranduil said, slipping on his trousers and a robe. "I'll have someone light a fire in your tent if you wish, it'll be warm for you and your children that way." He commented, toweling his hair to take most of the moisture out of it.

"If you would." Bard replied, quickly drying himself before redressing. Thranduil called something out in elvish and a brown haired elf popped his head in, rolled his eyes and then left. Bard did not wish to leave but was hesitant to ask to stay.

"Think of your children Bard, they would only worry if they woke to find you gone." Thranduil said, sharing the bowman's sentiment, yet being slightly more logical.

"I doubt one night would matter." Bard retorted, liking how his name sounded on the Elvenking's lips.

"No, but what of the night after, and the night after that? We can sort whatever this is out once your people are safe and out of danger, but for now, your family comes first Bard, above all else." Thranduil explained, walking over to the mortal. Bard nodded, seeing the logic, and kissed the elf once he was close enough. They both pulled away breathless, knowing that if Bard stayed any longer, they wouldn't be able to stop. "Galion will show you the way back." Thranduil said, giving the bowman a chaste kiss before speaking in elvish. The brown haired elf from earlier stepped in and bowed before sweeping his hand sideways, gesturing for Bard to exit before him. He walked what would soon become a familiar path back to his tent, a lightness in his step and a song in his heart.


	2. In Love, There is Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another chapter because I was feeling generous! Less smut, more love, some angst, but overall, not emotionally wrecking, despite what the title may suggest :)
> 
> Enjoy!

The path to the Elvenking's tent became familiar to Bard over the course of the week, walking it so often he was sure he could do it blindfolded. Bard visited Thranduil for business, pleasure or both, and soon found himself quickly falling for the Elvenking. Thranduil was in a similar predicament, and it bothered him greatly. Bard, who was supposed to meet the Elvenking to discuss their strategy for the what would happen within the next hour or so, especially because Bilbo had gone back to the mountain, was told by the guard outside to wait. He could hear Thranduil's conversation through the fabric of the tent.

"I know that look, what's bothering you?" Galion, Thranduil's loyal friend and butler asked him as he was helping the king with his armour. Thranduil's fingers halted their movements momentarily over a clasp before resuming tightening the strap. "Oh, you've got it bad mellon." Galion chuckled, batting the king's hand away and tightening it up himself. His smile fell when Thranduil sighed heavily and turned away once he was finished. "What is it?"

"I cannot allow myself to love him." Thranduil said, so soft Bard was sure he misheard, hoping he had when pain creeped into his chest.

"Why?"

"Because! Because he is mortal and-"

"And you will outlive him." Galion finished, understanding and sympathy in his voice.

"Exactly." The blonde sighed.

"Then what would you rather? Living an eternity filled with regret? You'll break his heart Thranduil. I've seen the way he looks at you, heard how he speaks of you, and you of him. You can't-"

"I can!" Thranduil shouted, frustrated with himself and this emotion he wasn't sure he wanted. Outside, Bard took a step back as if slapped."It- I just-" Thranduil tried, making a frustrated noise in the back of throat when he couldn't voice how he felt.

"Tell him." Galion interrupted, placing both hands on Thranduil's shoulders. "Let him decide for himself."

"It doesn't matter anyway. He-he would not look upon me if he knew, if he saw." Thranduil said. Bard was confused. Knew what? 

"Thranduil, I doubt that."

"No, I-" Thranduil began, cutting himself off when Bard walked through the tent. The Elvenking suddenly looked guarded. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough. Could I have a word with him, in private." Bard stated, waiting until Galion had bowed and left before rounding on the king. "Do you truly think so little of me?!"

"Bard-"

"Show me."

"Excuse me?" Thranduil blurted, taken slightly aback. He couldn't show Bard, he couldn't. 

"Show me what you've been hiding."

"Bard, please."

"Show me Thranduil, or I swear to the gods I will walk out of here and never look back." Bard threatened, his anger blinding him to Thranduil's terror. The Elvenking was on the verge of tears, but he didn't care. "Show me!!" He shouted, taking a step forwards. Thranduil choked back a sob and closed his eyes, letting the illusion he'd woven into his very being slip, letting every scar that had ever marred his flesh show. Only his face, neck and hands were visible, yet the array of white lines that littered his skin were astonishing. He let his cheek show last, only for a second, before pulling the cloak back up over himself, restoring his features. Bard stood in shocked silence, eyes wide and mouth open. 

"I'm sorry if I alarmed you." Thranduil said coldly, and Bard recognised the second his defences slammed up. The mask of ice was back in place, and Bard realised what he had done. 

"No. No, Thranduil...why did you think I would think any differently of you?" He asked, moving closer until he held the Elvenking in his arms. "You stupid elf." He laughed, holding Thranduil even tighter. After a few seconds, the elf returned the embrace, confused yet happy. Bard's hand moved to rest on Thranduil's left cheek, that had been practically nonexistent seconds ago, and kissed the now flawless skin before kissing the king on the lips. "You idiot, I still love you, and not even your immortality or some scars will change that. I'm willing to give whatever this is a chance. Are you?" He asked. Thranduil nodded, still not quite sure about what exactly his relationship with Bard was, yet knowing that it was what he wanted. "Good, now let's go kick these dwarves out of their mountain."

"Yes, let's." Thranduil agreed. A part of him was uneasy, even though he was actively trying not to think of his son being in the very place his mother had died, nor how Tauriel was with him, and that if either of them died he would probably never recover from the grief. He had a feeling that this battle held direr consequences than anyone thought. Trusting his instincts, he ordered for a portion of his army to stay with the survivors of Lake-Town. Something told him that he would be glad of it later. When they reached the mountain, Thorin's dragon-sickness had taken him worse that Thranduil had expected. He found his heart in his throat when the halfling was dangled off the edge of the mountain, half wanting to shout at his soldiers to catch the hobbit if Thorin were to let him go.

"If you don't like my burglar, gladly return him to me unharmed." Gandalf shouted up. Thranduil had not known such relief upon laying eyes upon the wizard before, and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Bilbo was released, scaling the wall before retreating to the relative safety of his army. A horn sounded in the distance, and suddenly there was an army of dwarves led by the one and only Daín Ironfoot, the singularly most arrogant dwarf Thranduil had had the pleasure of encountering. A tap on his leg drew his attention and soldier spoke to him causing him to miss the beginning of Daín's rant. Tuning in when the dwarf said something that must have been offensive, because Bard gasped loudly, he turned his head to the owner of that annoying voice, signature smirk plastered on his face.

"......this faithless woodland sprite! He wishes nothing but ill on my people! If he chooses to come between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then!"

"He's clearly mad, like his cousin." He replied, his voice loud enough to carry to the cheering company of Thorin. Bard, still a little shocked by the bitching session between Thranduil and Daín almost missed the faint sound of movement in the distance. Everyone's attention was drawn to the east, however, when four worms, for lack of better word, ripped out of the earth, an endless number of Orc's pouring from the tunnels behind them. He looked over to see terror in Thranduil's normally calm eyes, the sound of the dwarves preparing for battle fading into the distance as concern washed over him. 

"The elves, will they not fight?" Bilbo asked, looking around at the motionless elves, all waiting for their king's command.

"Thranduil! This is madness!" Gandalf shouted. Bard had never seen the Elvenking look so torn, eyes scanning his army before coming to a decision. The wizard understood, it couldn't have been easy for the king to give the order for the slaughter of hundreds of his people, but with a small nod from their king, the elves moved, leaping over the dwarves like water running over rocks. The battle had begun.


	3. In Love, There is an End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry about how long this took to update, but I got a little distracted by my other fics...
> 
> Sooo, here is chapter three! 
> 
> Enjoy!

The battle had only just begun, and yet his people were already falling. It pained him, to see the gift of life be ripped away from those who were not meant to lose it. By the time the first Orc made it past Daín's defences, killing two elves before being shot in the chest, elves, men and dwarves were already dead. More and more orcs came, making hand to hand combat a necessity. Those with bows fought with swords and daggers also. Those who were not trained were cut down easily, the ruthlessness of the orcs taking soldier and commoner alike. Nobility fought side by side with farmers, princes with blacksmiths and kings with simple merchants. Elves engaged in a dance with Death, their movements swift and clean, the seamless change between sword, dagger and bow making it look as if it were rehearsed. With some, Death won out, their gliding now a stumble, a fall, his scythe reaching out and tripping them in their dance. Rain fell from the sky, diluting the spilled blood that covered the forest. As planned, the eastern forces combined with the western, and Legolas, on horseback, fought alongside his father while the dwarves were re-united. The two armies stood before each other. Time appeared to stand still. Thwack. An elf in the front row fell. The king raised his arm, stilling the movements of those behind him. Horses snorted, stamped their hooves and whinnied. The king's elk shook it's head. Clinking of metal on metal echoed through the clearing. Flashes of lightening illuminated the clearing, the white light making the elves seem like ghosts. The pale hand was lowered slightly. Bows were loaded and swords were silently drawn. No one moved. Wargs growled and orcs snarled and with a shout, the enemy advanced, yet the hand remained stationary. They came closer, closer, clambering through the mud, rubble and bodies. The hand dropped and arrows fired. None missed their targets. Both king and prince drew their swords. Orcs, men and elves collided, the tainted mixing with the pure. The battle raged on.

Thranduil spotted Bard a way off and the human seemed to be fairing okay. He kept half an eye out for any change in the flags on the peak of a hill, so when a horn sounded and the flags changed, the Elvenking felt dread seep into him when he realised what exactly was happening when the faint screams reached his ears. Azog was attacking Dale. They had no hope of fighting a battle of two fronts, yet gathering what he could of his forces, he rode to Dale, decapitating several Orcs off of the antlers of his elk as he reached the gates. He was thrown forwards and onto the floor as his elk was shot, the animal's front legs failing him before he fell dead upon the ground. Thranduil didn't have time to mourn the loss of his beloved elk, as he found himself surrounded. Pulling a second blade from its sheath, he let out a cry of exertion when the blade met flesh, spraying black over his armour and face. After a while he'd lost count of how many orcs he'd killed. He'd lost count of how many of his people lay dead on the ground. He prayed to the Valar that his son wasn't among them, and he'd feel his heart stop every time he saw a glimpse of blonde hair among the fallen. Bard soon joined the fray, ordering anyone who could fight to stand and for the women, elderly and children to seek refuge in the great hall. After what felt like an age, the orcs were dead, but it was a small victory. Bard watched as Thranduil walked over the dead, counting them, mourning them. How many would not return home because of this fruitless battle? He did not think he wished to know. 

Sheathing his sword and shouldering his bow, Bard practically ran towards the Elvenking, throwing his arms around him and holding him tightly, grateful that the elf was alive and seemingly unharmed. Thranduil took a step back to accommodate the force that Bard slammed into him with, but he wasted no time in pulling back and kissing the human, uncaring of who saw. Bard was alive, and that was all that mattered to him in that moment. 

"I lost you at the field, I feared the worst." Bard said, resting his forehead on Thranduil's. "I'm glad you're alive."

"Me too." Thranduil laughed, kissing Bard softly. It was unreal, he thought, how fast he had fallen for the mortal, how hard. Bard had managed to worm his way into his icy heart and thaw it. He was glad he'd had the good fortune to meet Bard. Stepping back and spotting the two elves who were stood in rather a shocked silence, his heart filled with relief when he saw it was Tauriel and Legolas. In a rare moment of sentimentality, he walked over and embraced them both, relishing in the presence of his son and the daughter he'd never had. He'd taken Tauriel in when she was but a babe, her parents having been killed by orcs, and had raised her as his own, had loved her as a daughter. It would have killed him to have lost her or his son, and he was beyond glad that they were alive and well.

"Adar." Legolas breathed, clutching Thranduil tightly. Tauriel shared the sentiment, but was too shocked by her king's display of affection to speak. Tauriel had always cared for Thranduil like a father, and was deeply betrayed by him banishing her. She let herself be led by the arm as Thranduil pulled her to one side.

"I owe you an explanation. An explanation and an apology." He said, standing in front of her, his voice softer that she'd ever heard it. "I want to explain why I sent you away." He began, noticing her tense. He needed to explain, she was owed that at least. "I know you care for the dwarf, I see it in the way you look at him, speak of him. Your reaction when the Orc spoke of him was explanation enough. I sent you away for entirely different reasons to what you may think. I know Legolas cares for you, and I believe he may be mistaking brotherly affection for love, and seeing you with the dwarf would break him. I figured, if I banished you, you would be free to spend your time with Kíli, live with him, get to know him. You and Legolas would hate me for it, but it was a small price to pay for your happiness." He finished, surprised to find himself with an armful of crying elleth, returning the embrace as Tauriel practically wrapped herself around him.

"That- I-" She said, attempting to formulate a response. Finding herself unsuccessful, she went back to hugging him, feeling extremely touched by his concern for her happiness in a relationship she had thought he'd disapproved of. 

Bard watched the exchange with a strange feeling of happiness, glad that Thranduil had sorted things out between him and Tauriel. A long horn sound drew the attention of everyone. 

"The dwarves, fools, it's a trap!" Thranduil growled, untangling himself from Tauriel and whistling. A white horse appeared, Bard recognised it as the one he was riding earlier, and the Elvenking swung on in one fluid motion, the horse not even stopping. Legolas and Tauriel followed suit, climbing on a horse of their own and following their king. Bard sighed and shook the snow off of his coat before setting off to find his children and see if they were safe. He didn't know where Thranduil was going, or what he was going to do he when he got there, but he prayed that all three elves would come home safe.

BREAKLINE

Thranduil rode up to the old fortress, his son and Tauriel following close behind. They reached the top to see orcs dangling Fíli over the edge of a sheer drop, Kíli below and Thorin and Bofur onlooking. Nodding to his son, Legolas shot the Orc holding Fíli and Thranduil caught the dwarf as he fell, pulling him up onto his horse without word. The orcs were livid, screeching loudly and brandishing their swords and axes, shooting arrows at anything they could see. Tauriel scooped up Kíli, holding him close on her horse. While the orcs regrouped, they rode out to the gap between the two land masses, getting off of the horses lest the animals slip on the frozen surface of the river. Thorin joined them soon enough, standing at the back. Thranduil looked up to find Azog standing before them, holding a heavy looking mace. There were orcs on both sides, and Kíli and Tauriel took one bank whilst Legolas and Fíli took the other. That left Thranduil and Thorin to fight Azog. The white Orc stepped forwards the ice cracking under his weight. Swinging the chain, the block of metal on the end missing Thorin's chest by millimetres. The elf and the dwarf worked together, Thranduil in front and Thorin in the back, Thranduil using both of his swords. When his blade made contact with skin, Thranduil twisted, digging the sword deeper into Azog's flesh. The Orc screamed, Thranduil ducked but the dwarf wasn't fast enough, and in one swing, the mace smashed into Thorin, sending him careering sideways and into the rocks. He didn't get up. Ducking sideways, Thranduil managed to avoid the swing that was again meant for him, the ice cracking under his feet. He wasn't lucky enough to avoid the third, the mace hitting him square in the chest and sending him flying sideways, sliding across the ice and into the rocks on the bank, his swords clanking to the ground meters away. Hearing his spine crack before he felt it, he didn't need to be told that the mace had shattered his rib cage. Azog laughed, the sound sickening him. Thorin wasn't getting up, so Thranduil picked up a spear an Orc must have dropped and stood shakily, shattered ribs crunching under his buckled armour. Ignoring the blood that flowed from the corner of his mouth, he threw the spear. It hit its mark, the creature falling forwards onto its face, cracking the ice and staining it a horrid black as Thranduil fell to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth. He was covered in his own blood, his hair matted with it from a head wound he couldn't really feel, scrapes littered his body. Looking up, he saw the eagles dispatching the orcs. This battle was almost over, the dwarves had survived and so had those he cared for most. Thorin was only now coming around, and looked livid once he had. Everyone else was still fighting, too engrossed to notice what was going on behind them.

"To think, you only wanted those stupid white gems that you desire so much. Gems you would kill for, let your people die for? That necklace you had made for your wife, how sweet. I'll smelt them down and pour them over your cold corpse." Thorin growled, his eyes wild, yanking Thranduil's head up sharply by his hair. "Doesn't look like I'll have to wait long, hmm?"

"A sickness is upon you Thorin. The last of the dragons may have been slain, but you've not heard the last of its greed for it lies upon you like a black veil." Thranduil spat, the numbness entering him not comforting at all. Thorin obviously didn't like what he had heard, and his armoured boot landed on Thranduil's already battered rib cage with such force, Legolas heard the resulting crack and cry of pain. The prince, having killed the final Orc on his side, turned to see an image that would haunt him for an eternity. Tauriel turned to see Thorin drive a sword through her king's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I am...
> 
> Oh dear...


End file.
